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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001286">And When We Soar, Darling, We Touch The Stars</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainWeasley/pseuds/CaptainWeasley'>CaptainWeasley</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>John Wick (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftercare, Choking, Dom!John, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, Face Slapping, Happy BDSM, Humiliation kink, No Intercourse, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Shibari, Spanking, Subspace, blame it on the belt scene, no slurs, sub!Helen, whipping with a belt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:27:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,881</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28001286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainWeasley/pseuds/CaptainWeasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John Wick pleasures his wife exactly the way she likes. Helen just happens to like being in a lot of pain. Pure smut.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Helen Wick/John Wick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Couples That Play Together Stay Together</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>And When We Soar, Darling, We Touch The Stars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Look, I was already horny for Keanu Reeves, but then I watched John Wick 3 and that BELT SCENE came up??? Good God, I am a mere mortal, have some mercy. Of course, I had to turn my feelings into fanfiction immediately. Have fun :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John looks down at his wife: kneeling before him, blindfolded, hands bound behind her back. Her cheeks are reddened with lust and anticipation, her lips slightly parted, her bare chest heaving with excited breaths. His gorgeous Helen. The view is absolutely sublime.</p><p>
He caresses one of her cheeks lightly, and she leans into his soft touch automatically, like she can't help it. John is still unable to fully comprehend the fact that she puts her trust in him like this, she shouldn't, he's not a good person. But she does, time and time again, and it humbles him in a way that he never wants to go without.</p><p>
"You good, darling?"</p><p>
His voice is rough, raspy. She has never complained.</p><p>
Helen nods against his hand, a smile spreading on her face. John still doesn't fully understand how this makes her so happy—why she is smiling when he is about to hurt her—but he's so glad she wants this, she needs this, just as much as he does.</p><p>
Without warning, he slaps her face, a harsh, sudden sound that echoes around the room. Helen gasps and shivers and her smile widens, and she sits up straight, holding her face out to him, desperate for more.</p><p>
"You dirty girl," John chides her, doing his best to get into character. "I bet you would be begging me to slap you if you were allowed to speak, isn't that right?"</p><p>
She nods again, biting her lower lip now, and John can see her thighs clenching: a sure sign she's getting wet.</p><p>
He slaps her face for a second time and she groans in delight.</p><p>
"But wanton minxes like you don't get to speak. You, my dear, are fit for one thing and one thing only: being my obedient toy. Wouldn't you agree?"</p><p>
Helen nods, straining to sit up even straighter. He slaps her again as a reward for her effort, and her brilliant smile is all he needs to egg him on. He grabs her chin roughly, pulls it up towards him. The position has got to be uncomfortable for her.</p><p>
"I bet you're already wet. Am I right?"</p><p>
She can barely move her head because he is holding her so tightly, but her tiny nod is still perceptible. John leans down to whisper in her ear.</p><p>
"You're disgusting, darling. You should be ashamed of yourself."</p><p>
He can feel the effect these words have on Helen: the shiver, the hitch in her breath, the moan that's stuck in her throat. She is desperate for more, desperate for the real fun to begin, but John won't let her have that so easily.</p><p>
He straightens up again, moves his hand on her chin a little so he can slap her with the other, once, twice, three times, until she's moaning wantonly and her cheek is looking wonderfully red.</p><p>
"Look at you, so desperate for me to hurt you."</p><p>
John changes the position of his hands and does the same thing to her other cheek, until it too glows red. Helen is positively panting now, her whole body tense with trying not to move, resisting the urge to stimulate herself any way she can: she's not allowed.</p><p>
"Would you like me to hurt you a little more, darling?"</p><p>
Helen nods so enthusiastically that John's has to tighten his grip on her chin to avoid accidentally letting her go. There's a slight smile forming on his own lips, her giddy happiness is always contagious, and he adores seeing her like this. John takes a deep breath to calm himself: he will need to stay clear-headed if he wants to give his wife the best possible pleasure, he can't let himself indulge in these emotions.</p><p>
"Get up, darling."</p><p>
She struggles to comply at once, even though she is a bit unsteady on her feet, and John helps her keep her balance. Once again, he is amazed that Helen trusts him implicitly, trusts him to catch her even if she stumbles and falls, trusts him to take care of her. He wants to kiss her senseless, wants to tell her how much he loves her, but now's not the time.</p><p>
"You can't even stand on your own," he whispers instead, his lips teasingly close to her ear. "Pathetic."</p><p>
Helen makes a sound, a wonderful, low, guttural sound that makes John's cock twitch. Originally, John had planned on bringing her over to the bed at once, but this sound makes him want to do something else first.</p><p>
He moves to stand behind her, so close that the soft fabric of his suit brushes against her bare skin. Then, John drapes his right arm around her shoulder so he can close his hand around her neck, pulling her flush against him in the process, while he lets his left hand wander down her stomach and torturously close to her clit. However, he takes care not to actually stimulate her. Helen is shaking, trying to make herself stand still, but John knows how much she longs for his touch. He drags his fingertips through the neatly trimmed hair right next to her clit, evoking a low, pained groan from her.</p><p>
"Oh darling, you didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?"</p><p>
His fingers close around her throat, and pressing down on its sides. He knows so many ways to strangle a person to death, and so he also knows exactly what not to do to Helen, knows how to touch her without damaging her windpipe but still making her feel like she's unable to breathe, knows exactly when he has to let up, knows how much she can take.</p><p>
She's very quiet when they do this, and John is content listening to her taking rapid, gulping breaths every time he lets her take them, while he keeps teasing her with his left hand, so close to her clit and yet so far.</p><p>
John is a patient man: if Helen asked him to, he could do this all night long, and even now he takes his time with this part, choking her again and again until she is a whining, shaking mess in his arms.</p><p>
"You're not allowed to come until I give you permission," he whispers, and then he finally touches her clit, roughly, just the way she likes.</p><p>
Helen screams, and John covers her mouth with the hand that choked her only seconds ago, making her inadvertently bite down on his fingers with a pained groan, her entire body bucking wildly against his. But he is strong, and he is trained, and holding her in place is not a problem while he keeps stimulating her.</p><p>
When he drags his fingers through her wet folds, he discovers that she is practically dripping, and he smiles at this, not without pride: that he can manipulate his wife's body almost effortlessly is an accomplishment that's more important to him than anything he ever did in his former line of work.</p><p>
John doesn't make her suffer for long, because he knows she can't take much more right now.</p><p>
"Come for me, darling," he instructs, his voice raspy, and she does at once, moaning around his fingers in her mouth, her whole body shaking with the force of her orgasm.</p><p>
John holds her gently while she comes down from it, he's sure she wouldn't be able to stand on her own.</p><p>
"Beautiful, darling," he tells her quietly, carefully caressing her loosely braided hair, "so good and obedient for me, such a good girl."</p><p>
Helen turns her head so that she can kiss his cheek, which isn't strictly something she's allowed to do, but in that moment, John doesn't care.</p><p>
"You want more?"</p><p>
She nods happily, and he picks her up easily, carries her over to their bed.</p><p>
The first thing he does is make her drink water while she's sitting on the mattress, holding the glass to her mouth and watching her take slow sips from it. This process takes time, but it's not a bad idea to give her a break right now, while doing something that makes her feel just how dependant she is on his mercy, just how easily he can control her. When she's finished the glass, he unbinds her hands, and instructs her to lie on her back, hands next to her head.</p><p>
"Open your legs. Wider. Bend your knees. Like that, yes. Beautiful."</p><p>
For a moment, John can't do more than stare. She is so gorgeous, lying there, open and inviting and glistening wet. Once again, John changes his plans a little. He can still hurt her later, right now, he needs to taste her.</p><p>
"You're not allowed to come, darling."</p><p>
John has a single-mindedness about everything he does, and this is no different: when he buries his face between her thighs, everything else ceases to matter for a while. He loves the taste of her, and laps it up greedily, while she moans and writhes and cries out with desperate need for release. When her legs start shaking, John grabs hold of them, keeping them in place as he flicks his tongue against her clit, making her mewl.</p><p>
"You'd like to come now, wouldn't you?"</p><p>
His calm tone of voice is diabolical, the answer so obvious that the question itself is a mockery. Helen nods frantically, a pleading moan on her lips.</p><p>
"Unfortunately, darling, this isn't about what you want. Lie still, don't move."</p><p>
He kisses her clit once more, then lets go of her, watches her unsuccessfully attempting to keep still, to be good for him. But she's too far gone, and her body is shaking with need, and her hands are trembling, and her chest is heaving. Perfect.</p><p>
"I think I should tie you up," John tells her, affecting nonchalance, "you're obviously incapable of following my instruction otherwise. Would you like to be tied up, darling?"</p><p>
Her nods are accompanied by a wide smile, which isn't surprising. This is one of Helen's favorite parts.</p><p>
He takes his time with the ropes. Her skin is soft and warm and he touches her with reverence, binding the rope into patterns, slowly and deliberately. First, he binds her lower legs to her thighs, but individually, so that she can still spread her legs. That will be important later.</p><p>
When her legs are securely bound, John picks Helen up easily, makes her kneel on the mattress, knees spread wide, the position just short of being uncomfortable. He makes her hold her hands behind her back again, and then he starts on her torso. This is more for his benefit than hers, because she can't see the beautiful patterns over her chest, but John can, and he loves seeing her like this.</p><p>
Helen is calming down now, relaxing into the sensation of being bound, but John wants to keep her on the edge, wants to see her panting and hear her pleading moans. Without warning, he slaps her clit and she cries out in aroused shock, an incredible sound. John grabs her right below her jawline, tilts her head and bites into the soft skin where her neck meets her shoulder. He has the violent urge to mark her, to mark her as <i>his</i>, to bite so deeply and so brutally that her skin will tear, that his teeth will leave a scar.</p><p>
He doesn't.</p><p>
Helen still groans at the sensation, shudders against him when he lets up. John continues fastening the rope around her chest like nothing happened, but he can feel the change in Helen: she is alert now, anticipating another sudden change of pace, and John allows himself a small smile. She is so wonderfully malleable, and making her feel like he wants her to feel is the easiest thing in the world. He loves her so much that his chest might burst with emotion, and if he were a man capable of stringing beautiful words together he would surely wax poetic about her every single day. Maybe it's not that bad that he doesn't usually do much talking, he thinks wryly.</p><p>
Right now, however, more than anything else, he wants to give her pleasure, wants to make her deepest fantasies come true, wants to make her come so hard that she will forget her own name. It will take a while to get to that point, but John isn't in a hurry. When it comes to the pleasure of his wife, he would gladly take all the time in the world to make her happy.</p><p>
When the rope is pressing against her breasts both from above and from below, squishing them together nicely, John ties a quick knot to make sure everything stays in place, then allows himself a moment to look at her, even though he hasn't finished binding her arms yet. Helen's nipples are hard, the skin around them flushed from the pressure of the rope.</p><p>
John slaps one of her breasts, watching the reaction on her face: the inevitable shock at the sudden sensation, almost immediately followed by the groan of both pleasure and pain, then the smile spreading on Helen's lips, desperate for more. And right now, John wants to indulge her.</p><p>
Like with the ropes, he takes his time with this. The pain is supposed to build up gradually, spread through her like smouldering fire. John alternates between slapping her left and her right breast, and gives her break between these moments of pain so that she can really feel each and every slap. As her smile widens, her groans and grunts become ever more intense, a wonderful way for John to gauge how the pain is currently building up inside her.</p><p>
After a while, John leans forward to whisper in her ear.</p><p>
"You're not allowed to come until I give you permission."</p><p>
His own fingertips are tingling from slapping her, but John doesn't care, he's had far worse. When he drags his fingers over her dripping wet folds, Helen's throat produces a drawn-out whine, which turns into pitiful whimpers when John focuses his attention on her clit. And he almost, almost does take pity on her, but he knows how much she wants to be kept on this edge, how much she craves this torment.</p><p>
He leans down to lick across one of her red and swollen breasts, then flicks his tongue against her hard nipple. Helen makes a sound: somewhere between a moan, a scream and a sob. She must be close to the limit of what she can take, but John decides to push her just a little more, and moves his head so he can take her other nipple into his mouth, carefully swirls his tongue around it. Another scream.</p><p>
"Come for me," John tells her, accompanied by a rough movement against her clit, and Helen does, hard and loud and messy, and the sight is absolutely gorgeous.</p><p>
Minutes later, her body finally stops shaking. John holds her all the while, careful not to touch her sensitive breasts, stroking her hair, grounding her with his presence, his touch. He's coming to the realization that her blindfold is wet with tears, and he's afraid that he pushed her too far, that he actually hurt her. She's not telling him to stop the scene, though, so he decides to check in with her in character when she's stopped shaking and her breathing has evened out.</p><p>
"You took that so well, darling," he whispers, "such a good girl for me. Would you like to take a break now?"</p><p>
After a moment's hesitation, Helen shakes her head. But that hesitation is all John needs to decide what he wants to do next.</p><p>
"Alright, we'll continue. But if you're uncomfortable, or the pain becomes too much, I want you to use your safeword immediately, is that clear?"</p><p>
Helen nods.</p><p>
"Good girl," John says. "I won't hurt you again right away, but don't worry, I haven't forgotten about your favorite thing."</p><p>
This last part makes her smile again, almost relieved, and John kisses her gently. His amazing Helen, even now wishing for more torment. But he wants to make her wait for it, at least a little.</p><p>
"Keep kneeling. You need a new blindfold."</p><p>
They have several, thankfully, and John gets up from the bed and walks over to the drawer so he can choose a replacement. He's being nit-picky, but sometimes, the devil does lie in the details. And John wants any and all discomfort that Helen feels to be his doing, by his own hand, wants to inflict pain deliberately. A wet, uncomfortable blindfold will distract her from that, will bother her in a way that he has no control over, and that's just simply not acceptable.</p><p>
"Keep your eyes closed," he instructs her before removing the one she's been wearing.</p><p>
Helen does, good and obedient as ever, and John looks at her, sitting before him: so vulnerable, but entirely by choice, because she wants to be taken care of, because she wants to trust him. Even after all this time, John can still hardly believe his luck, can still not quite wrap his head around the fact that she wants this, that she craves this.</p><p>
Following a sudden impulse, he cups her face with one hand, gently, peppers her features with kisses: her cheeks, her nose, her temples, her forehead, her closed eyelids—thank you, he wants to say, thank you for giving me this.</p><p>
He binds the replacement blindfold in place, makes sure that it's snug but not too tight. Then, he kisses Helen's forehead once more, runs his fingers over her hair.</p><p>
There isn't much left to do concerning the bondage, but John deliberately works slowly, taking his time with every single motion. He can feel her relaxing again, and this time, he lets her, allows her to sink into that comfortable mind-space of being taken care of while he carefully binds her arms together. John can also feel a sort of tranquility within himself, almost like he used to experience on missions sometimes, back in his old life. And yet, this is so far from anything he ever did back then that it seems preposterous to even attempt to compare the two.</p><p>
Helen is his shining star, beautiful and bright, and every single thing he does right now is with the intention of making her happy, of bringing her pleasure. He finds fulfillment in her happiness, finds completion and purpose. This is nothing, <i>nothing</i> like the life he used to lead.</p><p>
When the ropes are where they should be, securely holding Helen's limbs in place, John is in the right mood to do what she craves most, to fulfill her deepest desire.</p><p>
"You ready, darling?"</p><p>
He doesn't need to elaborate. Helen nods, blissfully smiling that beautiful smile.</p><p>
"I need to move you a little."</p><p>
She's too far from the edge of the bed at the moment, and John rectifies this by maneuvering her body with ease, until she is right where he needs her.</p><p>
"Lean forward now, I'm gonna help you. That's it, good girl."</p><p>
John supports her weight so that she doesn't flop down onto the mattress face-first. Soon, she's arranged on the bed in just the right way: ass in the air, close to the edge of the bed, the right side of her face pressed into the soft mattress, her knees spread with her legs still bound, her arms securely tied behind her back. The view is downright lewd in the best possible way.</p><p>
John stands next to the bed and positions himself so that he can see her face: he needs to be able to see her reactions, not only because he needs to know how much she can take, but also because he wants to see her smile, wants to see exactly how much she enjoys this. He slaps her ass playfully: her face lights up, and a little moan escapes her throat. Perfect. She's perfect.</p><p>
"You're being such a good girl for me," John tells her, his voice a little raspy with adoration. "And good girls get rewards for their behavior."</p><p>
He slaps her ass again, not enough to hurt, just enough to make her crave more.</p><p>
"I will allow you to make an important decision right now, darling. Answer with a gesture: Would you like praise or humiliation for this next part?"</p><p>
Without missing a beat, Helen holds out one finger with her right hand. John is a little surprised, she often wants to be humiliated. But he likes to praise her just as much.</p><p>
"You're gorgeous, spread out and eager for me, so beautiful."</p><p>
Another slap, but harder: John wants her to feel this now, wants to help her get into the right head-space for what's to come.</p><p>
"I love seeing you like this, all tied up and at my mercy."</p><p>
His palm makes contact with her soft flesh again, and the sharp sound echoes around the room. Helen sighs.</p><p>
"You're so eager for it, aren't you?" Another slap. "I can see just how wet you are—" John slaps her again, and gets a guttural, low groan in return. "—and darling, you are the most gorgeous sight in the world."</p><p>
John caresses her reddened cheeks teasingly, then dips his fingers into her hot wetness, can feel the excited rhythm of Helen's heartbeat in between her soft folds.</p><p>
He licks his own fingers clean, craving the taste of her, before opening his belt buckle. The sound is distinct enough for her to recognize, and John can see the shiver running through her whole body, can see the brilliant smile on her face.</p><p>
He pulls the leather belt from his pants in one smooth motion, suddenly thankful for all that training he got: John feels like he went through years of pain and suffering in order to be able to please his wife now, which makes it all worth it. He wraps one end around his hand several times, so that he has a good grip on the belt, looks at Helen's face.</p><p>
"You want it, darling?"</p><p>
John can't help teasing her like this. Helen nods frantically into the mattress, moaning desperately. She looks like she's close to begging out loud, but she's holding back because she's not allowed. The sight makes John smile, his heart overflowing with love for his wife.</p><p>
The first strike of the belt takes her by surprise, just like he planned: she whimpers and writhes, and John watches the angry red welt appear slowly on her ass. The sight stirs something primal inside of him: that same urge which made him want to bite her earlier, to claim her, to mark her. His self-control is stronger than this desire, of course, but the thought still lingers in the back of his mind, feeding his own arousal.</p><p>
John is methodical with this, as with everything else: whipping her with precision, with cool patience. Her soft skin is his canvas, and he is determined to create beauty.</p><p>
Speaking has become impossible. There are no words that John could possibly say, nothing that would communicate his love for her more clearly than his actions.</p><p>
The belt is sudden, and painful, and precise. Helen's reactions are delayed, and forceful, and messy. The two in combination create an experience that borders on spiritual revelation.</p><p>
John lets himself sink into it, not enough to lose control, but enough to revel in the beauty of the moment.</p><p>
Helen's mouth is open, her lewd moans of both pain and pleasure filling the whole room. Her chest is heaving with her heavy breaths, her fingers are twitching, her arms straining against the ropes every time he hits her. Her toes are curling, her whole body shaking. And she's incredibly wet, John can see the moisture running down her thighs, a wonderful sight.</p><p>
His own cock is hard, but that is more like an afterthought for him, and he ignores it. Instead, he focuses on the skin of her ass: he doesn't want even a single inch to be left untouched by the belt. The movements of John's hand are automatic, years of experience and training making it possible for him to focus on the part of her ass he wants to hit, and letting his hand follow through on that thought.</p><p>
His strikes are very even. His belt draws red lines on her skin in a row, neatly, each standing out for a moment before slowly fading into the others a little. Gorgeous.</p><p>
Helen gets very quiet after a while: now, she's smiling blissfully, almost vacantly, and the sounds she makes are guttural but somewhat subdued. She usually describes this sensation as floating, dreamlike. John loves seeing her in this state, even though part of him hardly dares to believe that this is real. The fact that she trusts him like this, lets him take care of her happiness and her safety and her body without even a single second thought, is something that still amazes John, even after their years together.</p><p>
He doesn't give room to these thoughts: like his own arousal, they only distract from what is actually important here, and that is Helen's pleasure. John pushes all his doubts away to focus his attention singularly on her again.</p><p>
The sharp sounds of the leather against her skin cut through the air rhythmically. There's no need for variety now, or for surprises of any kind. Now, John only wants to lull her deeper into her sensations, into her own bliss, and that is best achieved by deviating as little as possible from what she expects.</p><p>
Subconsciously, her body takes up his rhythm as well: swaying slightly with it, and John has the mesmerizing feeling of being in perfect tune with her, of creating something together that's vast and beautiful and intimately theirs. He can't quite define this feeling, but it is one of the best things he knows.</p><p>
Time loses all meaning. John doesn't know how long it takes until her entire ass is glowing red, and he doesn't care. The sight is spectacular, but it also means that he has to stop: he won't risk giving her more pain than she can take, and in her current state of mind she won't be able to tell him if something is too much.</p><p>
John lets the belt fall to the floor, takes a step towards Helen so he can caress her abused ass cheeks. This will be painful for her as well, but in a completely different way, and way less intense than the belt. He watches her face intently, but she goes along with this change seamlessly, still floating in her happiness.</p><p>
She feels so good and John loves touching her skin, especially when he knows she can feel it as intensely as now, and suddenly, he finds his voice again.</p><p>
"I love you, darling," he begins hoarsely, because that is the most important thing, much more important than anything else. "You took that so well—such a good girl—I love you, I love you."</p><p>
He moves his fingers down, through her wet folds and right to her clit—</p><p>
"Come for me, darling."</p><p>
—and she does, with a shudder and a low-pitched whine, almost a groan.</p><p>
John knows she can't take more than this, and he fights his own irrational disappointment. These things have to end every time, that is in their nature, and yet he can't help but wish that he could feel like this all the time: deeply at peace.</p><p>
He unties her gently, with quick and practiced movements. Her body is heavy and she doesn't have the energy to move by herself, but that has never been a problem, he can lift her body whenever the need arises. Right now, for instance, he needs to help her lie down on her side so that her weight is neither on her chest nor on her ass, and his strength does come in handy with that.</p><p>
John takes off her blindfold, caresses her hair, pushing the strands that have fallen free from her loose braid out of her face, runs his fingers over her shoulders, her back, her arms. Then, he pulls the blanket over her, makes sure that she is warm and comfortable, so she can come back to reality at her own pace. Helen groans and pushes out her hand from under the blanket, and he lies down next to her and holds her hand, interlacing their fingers.</p><p>
He's still hard, but doesn't make a move to touch himself. He doesn't want to. For John, this is all about her, her pleasure and her happiness, and he feels like satisfying his own baser instincts would diminish the purity of this devotion. Helen keeps insisting that she wants him to have a good time as well, but she's currently off in her happy dreamland and so has no influence over what he does or doesn't do. John never really finds the right words to explain to her that he has a profound need to play their scenes like this, that a quick orgasm would take away from his own experience.</p><p>
So, he lies next to her, calmly holding her hand, waiting patiently for her to come back to him, so he can hold her and kiss her and tell her that he loves her so very, very much.</p>
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